


O Morpheus, Thou Merciless God

by burningfreeze



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Implied Sexual Content, James is smart but too dumb to realize he is falling for his first, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Wet Dream, do not nap on a command meeting, especially when you have too many THOUGHTS about your coworker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningfreeze/pseuds/burningfreeze
Summary: James Fitzjames really wants to get to know Francis Crozier better, ends up thinking way too much about it.He makes the mistake of taking a nap during a command meeting, and his dream pretty much reflects the feelings he has about his first better than he would like to admit it. He's sleep-talking, too.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier & Commander James Fitzjames, Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	O Morpheus, Thou Merciless God

The culmination of recent events has grown heavy on Captain James Fitzjames, knocking him off his usual collected state to this of deep anxiety, even though this would only show on his face—now visibly marked with weariness—not in his conduct. Confronting the fact that this expedition is not a venture for glory anymore has not been easy for him, and when alone, his mind would get off track from his duties to attempt to process the tragedies past Terror and Erebus, and those yet bound to happen to them. To think that the unyielding ice and the penetrating freeze that keeps him awake at night are probably the least of their concerns has been more than frightening to him. Yes, fear… He’s always been more than aware of what fear can do to even the most reliable of people—that is why he’s learned to pretend it does not exist as a reasonable emotional response, but merely a tick of the brain that could be controlled, dismissed as a momentary lapse of reason. Up to this point of his life, he was able to immediately balance out his anxieties with visions of success and admiration, something the late sir John cherished in his demeanor, but as his captain sank into the glacial depths, so did Fitzjames’ heart of indefeasible courage.  


Unable to even fabricate some positive conceptions about the fate of the expedition, in his berth he would often question his own existence and position, possibly because focusing on one’s own demons is a comfortingly familiar torture, as opposed to the dread of the unknown. How Captain Crozier has managed to function constantly awaiting and ready for the worst to happen—James could not comprehend. While he would not like to admit it to himself, he has grown understanding of his first’s vices, now acutely aware that Francis was never really burdened by just gloomy personality, but by his endless concern for other people’s lives and by loving too hard for his own good. In truth, James quietly admired his spirit, and just could not bear to watch him ruin himself, drowning in whiskey and painful unawareness of how needed he is, perhaps now more than ever. Because Fitzjames was never quite an empathetic person (or rather because he would not allow himself to be exposed by the vulnerability of trust and compassion), he has only tried to force Crozier to think the way he himself does, that is to detest his own weakness and irresponsibility, hoping to just push him away from demise by inflicting shame. The ineffectiveness of his attempts of help has been troubling him, too, and now he has started regretfully wondering whether he just contributed to Crozier’s downfall.  


In the last few days, this one thought has been troubling him way more often than it should, resulting in long internal debates on how to approach his first, how to crack this thick shell of obstinacy. His conclusions were ultimately drawn from the tête-à-tête they have had recently, where Francis unexpectedly confessed he only agreed to be a part of the crew to prove he was worthy of Ms. Sophia Cracroft’s affection, or at least this was what James has deduced. Seeing his first with tears in his eyes was a shock, to be true, and he could not help but be moved by this image. As if witnessing a butterfly crawl out of its fragile cocoon, James saw someone complex and fascinating peeking through the veil of sarcasm. Before he even got a chance to discuss it, or very much in his style—offer a friendly anecdote, Crozier was already dismissive and passive-aggressive. Fitzjames is a smart enough man to recognize a coping mechanism when he sees one, and he sensed it immediately, but could not bring himself to drag the conversation, still staggered by this manifestation of vulnerability. As he wandered off Terror, James found himself wondering whether Francis really tried to find someone he could trust… in him. Was that really it? Did his first feel isolated in his pain? The thought seemed ridiculous, he had to be at least somewhat frank with Thomas Blanky, they seemed to be very close friends in his eyes. And everyone else was suffering, too. But then… what was that? What exactly happened? Did he not trust Blanky enough? Or maybe he does not want to be a burden to anyone else? His conclusions were the following: Crozier was as scared of failure and rejection as he was, just worse at hiding his anxieties, and certainly not the best at opening up. He found this idea compelling, drawing him towards his first, more than he would imagine. Getting to know Francis, convincing him he is respected has become the central plan of James, which would soon get out of his control. What Fitzjames could not predict (with all due respect to his intelligence), was that he would also deeply desire to be known by Crozier, to get closer to him, and to find peace in experiencing the hardships and heartbreaks of this expedition together. Together, what a dangerous concept.  
Maybe it would not get so complicated if Francis did not seem to be so warm, and if James was not so bloody cold all the time, constantly cursing the effect freeze has had on his functioning.

***

This night has been sleepless, again. Despite debilitating weariness, James Fitzjames just could not bring himself to be embraced by Morpheus, trembling furiously even though he was fully clothed beneath his sheets. The vicious circle of cold and anxiety has kept him on his feet for 2 straight days now, but that did not prevent him from going to the command meeting, not when captain Crozier has finally promised to pay a visit to Erebus. Obviously, James would force himself to go anyways, never neglecting his duties. Even if it meant hiding real physical distress, he would not allow himself to give up and admit his own weakness, not even when everyone was already suspecting he might be at the verge of collapsing. Today he is as neat as always, his uniform perfectly adjusted, buttons and shoes polished, and hair impeccably styled in his preferred manner—elegant waves covering his ears and the subtle signs of receding hairline, but kept in place in a way they would not frivolously stick to his forehead.  


Sadly, all his efforts would be like blood soaking in the sand—wasted. As soon as he entered the room and decided to wait for the rest of the officers to arrive while sitting in a comfortable chair, his fate was sealed. The closeness of a small stove, the oddly comforting overlapping chatter of those who have already arrived, the stuffy air—all have pressed him deep into the seat, and suddenly he had no more of his stubbornness left to resist. James Fitzjames has sailed away in his seat, and no one seemed to mind, busy with their things or simply understanding of the condition of their captain.

***

James found himself sitting in the great cabin of Terror, golden sunrays peeking through the windows and hitting the walls of the room in most awesome ways. He blinked twice, feeling eerily disconnected from what was the last image he memorized before his eyes. He touched his face as if to make sure it was his own, and sure enough—it was, same as it ever was, very much palpable and real. Immediately he was struck by how warm he felt, blood circulating in his limbs like they were not frozen stiff just a while ago. He got up and decided to glance through the glass pane of the window. Without doubt, the ship was sailing on warm, azure waters. Indian Ocean came to his mind, but that would… make no sense?  


\- Ah, you’re awake.  


James turned around to see his first seated by the table, unfamiliar (or rather undecipherable) maps sprawled on its surface. Crozier was slouching over them, visibly lost in his thoughts, adding some notes on them in red ink. As he finished the last line of his writing, he averted his eyes to look on James, offering him a kind smile. He was in his vest and shirt, both perfectly ironed and visibly clean. His hair was neatly cut and combed, face clean shaven, and sideburns clipped. Fitzjames blinked once again at the sight, previously living in his distant memory of banquets in London. He had to admit to himself that he liked what he was seeing, and he dared not question that thought.

\- Were I asleep? My apologies, I had no intention to disregard you, Francis. 

A cordial chuckle answered James’ plea for forgiveness. 

\- No offense taken. But your tea has gone lukewarm at best.

Sure enough, there was a lone teacup on the cupboard behind Francis, no sight of whiskey. James walked up to take a sip of his drink, still cautious in his state of confusion.

\- Are you quite alright? Had a bad dream?  
\- Not sure… 

Indeed, the tea was lukewarm, but delectable in taste, the leaves must have been fresh when brewed.  
Crozier turned around on his chair, observing James with visible concern. 

\- You can tell me, you know?

At once, Fitzjames was struck by the awareness… He knew him. They knew each other. They have known each other for long enough, in all the ways he dared and dared not to imagine. Relief washed over his body like a sweet balm. He put down the teacup and walked closer to Francis.

\- Yes, I’m aware. I would tell you if only there was anything to say.  
\- You, of all people, have nothing at all to say, James? Well I’ll be damned.

Another salve of laughter broke the silence of the great room. For a reason, James was sure there was no one to bother them around.

\- Absolutely hilarious.  
\- I think so too.

The friendly yet teasing tone and beaming smile that were aimed at him prompted Fitzjames to relax and allow himself to smirk at his first. Instead of a chair, he chose to sit on the table right in front of Francis, a playful cat he was.

\- And what is this tomfoolery? I am kind of busy here. You want ink soaked in your pants, James?  
\- Maybe I do. What will you do about it?  
\- You really want to see?  
\- Maybe I do.

Francis took the black ink-well in his right palm, and toyingly tipped it right over Fitzjames’ lap, causing him to immediately spread his legs in reflex.

\- I knew you would not do that. Pah.  
\- Did you, really? 

He did not, but would not admit it, of course. 

\- I merely wanted to satisfy your curiosity. You dare doubt me?  
\- I would never.  
\- M-hm. Old fool.  
\- Devil in disguise.  
\- Ha, the Devil hardly manages to compete with me.

Francis shook his head in amusement. Without any embarrassment, he reached to unbutton James’ collar. It was not a surprise by any means, it was what the man on the table wanted. Frankly, he was grateful for that gesture, it was certainly easier to breathe now. 

\- Here, Beelzebub, take a deep breath. Maybe this will cool the hell in you down. A little.  
\- Oh, I am not quite sure…  
\- Outrageous!

Francis’ worn but deft fingers worked their way down, unbuttoning the vest, then the shirt. It was then that James realized that they were dressed similarly, only to see his own bare chest and stomach shamelessly naked in front of his first’s face. And sure enough, Francis’ face was beaming with awe, even though he has seen Fitzjames’ bare skin more than twice. James noticed that his eyes are not unlike the azure ocean outside, and he enjoyed the way their stare washed over him like the waves lick the shore in their rhythmical movement, back and forth. 

\- Christ… James, you’re…  
\- Yes?  
\- Stunning.  
\- I have a personality, too.  
\- I know. I know and I love it quite as much, more than you know. I would not… be there if it was not for you… You know I owe you my life. I’ve told you.  
\- More than once, but I love to hear it.

_love love love love love love love love love love_  
It was love?

\- I know you do. Vain thing.

Francis hands ventured from James’ stomach, through his chest, to his back underneath the fabric. He pressed his face to his chest in a needy embrace, and James could not help but just pet the ginger head lovingly. It felt like he had it all. The surge of warmth was overwhelming.

The small kisses on his torso were a welcomed surprise. Just as Crozier started drawing imaginary maps with his lips on the skin, James realized his scent is completely free of the acidic odour of sweat that alcoholics have. All that was there was a fresh smell of soap and just a hint of… well, just Francis, his own distinctive scent. James felt ecstatic, not even trying to conceal his enthusiasm and answering his first’s efforts with appreciative sounds. What was first just kitten kisses, increasingly grew to needy licks and sucking of the skin. 

\- Fuck. Francis?  
\- Hm?  
\- Here?  
\- M-hm.

They did not need any more communication, they would have understood themselves even without words now. James felt himself being tipped over to lie on the table by the now standing figure before him, and welcomed this change by pulling him closer with legs wrapped around his hips. He appreciated the grunt Crozier made in response to his input, a whole damn lot. He loved to hear him, the rugged voice cracking with want. 

? loved 

The kisses on his neck could not be described any differently than desperate, chaotic and hot, so delectably hot, warm breath spreading on the skin like steam. By God, he’s never wanted someone so badly. And it was not just the physical need, it was like his whole existence depended on it, he wanted to know him to know him to know him

\- Mmph…. Francis……………………. Please………………. I’m begging…………………  
\- Everything… you want.  
\- Just that, please……….………….. yes…………….. m.. Ff-Franci-

***

\- Yes, James? 

A vague shape was quickly rendering before Fitzjames’ eyes. In few seconds he managed to fish out the meaning of the shape from his memory. It was a very concerned face of his first, quite up close. His hand was gently clutching his arm.  
The realization of what has just happened slammed James like a boulder falling off a mountain. He jolted on his seat in shock and embarrassment, not quite prepared to land on the floor on his buttocks. Immediately Francis rushed to lift him up, gripping him firmly under his arms in a strong embrace.

  
  


\- Are you quite alright? Christ, you’re shaking like a leaf…

Oh, he was far from alright. This was unbearable. Why must his body betray him? And his mind? A foe.

\- Ough… I must have dozed off. You can. Let go now, I can stand on my own thank you.  
\- Well… if you insist…  
\- I do.

Francis let go of James reluctantly, still observing whether the man can actually maintain the vertical position. Crozier certainly did not smell like flowers, and he could hardly be described as well-groomed, but the look he gave James was what his dream offered—a warm, understanding stare. Everyone else was looking in their direction, too, startled by the noise. The measure of this embarrassment overwhelmed James, he knew he had to run, and run fast. He could already feel his face going hot and red, eyes tearful. His forehead was tickled by his now unruly hair. 

\- Ahem. Dundy? Please brief me on the results of the meeting today evening. I think… I think I am in no state to participate. Gentlemen…. Please continue without me, you have my sincere apologies.

Le Vesconte was more than confused, but nodded in agreement.  
Haphazardly, James slicked back his hair (to no avail), fixed his uniform, and quickly left the room, his heart racing with him for life. Truth be told, he could hardly walk, so he did not walk too far anyways—pressed his back to the wall of the corridor, covered his flushed face, and groaned. This was too damn much, his insides twisted painfully from stress, causing him to cough. Did everyone just hear him moaning for his first? Christ, what has he done to himself, a disgrace of a man-

  
  


\- James? I apologize I startled you, I thought you were awake… In any case, I am deeply sorry. I hope you’re not in pain…

He lifted the palms of his hands from his face. Oh no, please… 

\- Don’t…. Don’t apologize. Just let me be, forget about it. Please.  
\- Mhm… Should I come back to the meeting? 

Why does he have to sound so kind? Look so kind? This is not real. It was a dumb fucking dream.

\- Yes. I am not holding you, Francis.  
\- Well then… uh. Take care, you should get some sleep, James.  
\- I am aware. 

Crozier stayed in one spot for a few more seconds and then turned around awkwardly, placing his steps carefully towards the sound of debate. 

\- No, no. Wait. Um.  
\- Yes? 

Francis stopped his pace and turned his head around.

\- Actually… I think I have to tell you something.  
\- Well, I’m quite sure you have a lot to say… as per usual.

That was painfully awkward, but Francis tried to crack a smile to soften the atmosphere.

\- Don’t taunt me, Francis.  
\- Hit you, I would try, but taunt you? I would not dare. Not the most equal of duels, arguing with you.  
\- Right. Glad we agree. Be careful with my nose, though, I cherish having a straight nose bridge. 

And James felt his trembling lips stretch in a stupid, crooked smile. Or so he thought.  
To Francis? It was quite charming.

**Author's Note:**

> [title is a play on Daniel Purcell's composition "Morpheus, Thou Gentle God" and I don't even know if merciless was a word in 17th century England when it was composed pfft]
> 
> This is my first fic woohoo!!!!!!!!!!!! Sorry for chaos and mistakes in tenses, I hope you enjoy!!  
> Big thanks to [feeltheromance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltheromance/pseuds/feeltheromance) AKA [caravaggiosbrushes](https://caravaggiosbrushes.tumblr.com/) for prompting me to write it, giving me the idea for it and for the illustrations! Go give my friend some love <3


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